A mere three poems you have posted
and I sense something like beauty
in your lines
Something exactly like beauty
A hint of pain,
but every indication of self-betterment
through self-reflection
and direct (non-)action
as you feel the edge
but do not press it through
which I hope you continue not to do
And although I have never
drawn my own blood
I find myself touching things
just to see how they feel;
my intent, to escape anything real
So I imagine you experience life
in a similar way
Small escapes whenever you can,
but questioning whether something's
wrong with your head
And the agony of loss;
your cells certainly remain
And your mention of tampons
brings to mind for me
that my last love's last remaining
evidence of our time
is a ****** wrapper that stayed
in my trash for months,
even survived a move
and now rests in a big bag
ready to go out.
Surely, you are still with him
somewhere in his life.
You are not disgusting,
of that I am sure
We all have our secrets
And those of us who hide them all
are the disgusting,
because you find them out
when it hurts the most
And as I bring this piece to a close,
I see you have revealed two more of your own,
further revealing your heart and its beauty,
as you give to a man who has a heart like my own